The XY Factor
by Amerath's Destiny
Summary: In a post-apocalyptic, underground world where women rule supreme and men are little more than slaves, Leah and Bo make a startling discovery. A dystopian, female-dominated AU. Accepting OCs of any gender. Generation VI included!
1. Prologue

"3064-281-024-05 will be assisting Miss Lacey in her fabric shop. 3064-881-616-03 will go onto the cleaning crew run by Miss Amanda. 3064-703-444-07 will go…"

Today was sorting day, the day that he and the boys he had spent the past eight years with would be given a career. As their various numbers were called, he made a game out of guessing who would be given which career. On the whole, he guessed wrong. Most young boys were given fairly easy jobs; a job more used to train them than a job they would actually do for the rest of their lives.

Still, every once in a while, their future career would be obvious. There was one boy in his age group – 3064-420-240-07 – who was sent to work with the other farming slaves. His skin was dark – though skin tones varied within the colony, pale slaves who worked outside who virtually unheard of – and he had always been bigger and stronger than any of the other boys of the same age. He got into fights all the time, instead of getting along like the other boys. On top of that, he had never seen the boy shed a single tear, not even over the saddest story. It was common knowledge that slaves that acted more like the men of ages past were most often given tasks that forced them to go aboveground, while those had a full range of emotion and the ability to work well with others – or, at least those that pretended to – were given jobs that allowed them to live in the underground colony full time.

Still, everyone, male or female, working above the ground or under, was thankful for the chance to live at the colony. It was better than living in the Wastelands. People called it hell on earth. The world above ground was ruined. It was only due to the research and hard work of the women of the colony that they managed to cultivate small patches of land above the colony, but beyond the above ground walls, the Wastelands were nothing but desert, for miles and miles and miles. Beyond that were the rumored Wildlands. So few people left the colony and survived to tell the tale – only the Priestesses returning as Archivists. However, it was said that it was nothing tangled jungles and frozen mountains. Everything out there was set on killing you – the wild Pokémon were incredibly powerful, the weather was unpredictable and prone to changing at a moment's notice, and even the water was poisonous. Even worse, rogues of the worst kind came from the Wastes and the Wilds – people like Team Genome, who's only goal was to destroy the colony and murder everyone within.

"3064-188-094-02," the woman at the front of the room called. The boy perked up as he heard his number called. He had a moment of blind, naïve hope. Maybe he would be chosen to serve a high-standing woman in society! It was everything a man – or boy – could dream of, to serve a woman of rank. He had met other slaves who served women, and he, like every other boy his age, looked up to them blindly. They were incredible, almost like women themselves. Of course, he would never think to put them on the same level of women, but almost. Almost. Some were even given names of their own by their masters – a dream every man aspired to, yet few every achieved.

"You will be helping Miss Isabella in her pet store," the woman at the front of the room told him, pointing to another woman waiting to the side. He hid his disappointment by bowing to the woman – Miss Isabella - as she approached him. Young slaves never became servants – not immediately, anyways. Training in odd jobs was required first, and only older slaves who were personally picked by the woman they were going to serve ever became servants. If he ever wanted to reach such a high rank, he would need to excel at several things and put himself in the spotlight as he did it, and he was not a person who liked attention.

Isabella knelt down before him and gave him several instructions – look her in the eye, open his mouth for her to check his teeth, hold out his arms.

Finally, she seemed satisfied. "You'll do. Better than the last couple I got from the east side, at least. I'll have to make sure I request slaves from the west side from now on." He didn't respond – unless given an order or freedom to speak, slaves were only to talk when asked a question.

He didn't have to wait long. "What's your ID number?"

"3064-188-094-02, miss," he responded.

"Very well, then," she nodded, standing and turning to leave. "Follow me. I'll outline your duties as we walk."

The next few months treated him very well. There were two other boys that helped Isabella in her shop, and the three of them shared a medium-sized room in the back of the shop during the nights. They even all had their own mattresses, a luxury he had never had before. The work was not all that difficult – feed the Pokémon, clean out their cages, and occasionally venture out aboveground with Isabella so she could catch more Pokémon. Some of the larger Pokémon scared him – Isabella had a huge Noivern that made him jump every time it flew into the room – but the smaller ones were cute. He would never dream of owning one for himself – a man owning Pokémon was a great crime in the colony – but he liked the time he could spend with them. Best of all, Isabella rarely hit, and when she did, it was a quick cuff, more meant to surprise and scold him than to actually cause pain. Most women were fairly kind to slaves, and when they weren't, they always deserved it. Still, he was glad she was forgiving of his mistakes, and he did his best to please her. Yes, his life was very, very good.

If only it could have stayed that way.

One day, Isabella returned to the shop with a tiny Poochyena. "I found him curled up under a bush. I waited for several hours, but his mother didn't return. A larger Pokémon probably got to her. We'll have to bottle feed him until he's old enough to give away."

The next few days were uneventful. During the day, the Poochyena was a perfectly normal puppy – he snuggled with customers, he ate well, he jumped on anything that moved. However, at night, he began to whine and howl in the most pitiful way. Isabella told them to leave him be, that he needed to learn to be on his own, or he would learn that begging would get him his way.

A week in, he couldn't take it anymore. The Pokémon's sad whimpering was the most heartbreaking thing he had ever heard. Though he knew he was disobeying Isabella, he left the room to pull the Poochyena out of its cage.

"Why are you so sad, little guy?" he whispered to it, gently petting his soft fur as his whining quieted down to a soft whimpering. "I know new places are kind of scary, but there's nothing to be afraid of. You have a home, you have food, you have people to take care of you every day. What else could you want?"

Eventually, the Poochyena quieted completely, and his eyes started to drift close. The young boy found himself yawning as well. It wouldn't hurt to sleep here with the Pokémon, would it? No, it wouldn't. Slowly, he settled himself down to the floor, his arms wrapped around the little Pokémon, and fell asleep.

The dream he had was the nightmare to end all nightmares.

No longer was he in the safety of the underground colony. He wasn't even in the gardens and farms above the ground. The sky was black, but not like the black of night – that would have been comforting in comparison. This was the black of looking into a bottomless abyss the moment before you are pushed. The ground was bone white and cracked, and a gray dust blew along in a breeze that smelled of death.

"H-hello?" he called, his voice trembling. Instead of echoing or carrying, his words were swallowed up by the silence of the place. His heart rate skyrocketed, and his hands began to shake. He hated this place, this monochrome desert. He wanted to get out of here.

In the distance, he spotted a blotch of color that broke the terrifying monotony of the place. He headed towards it – anywhere was better than this.

Why couldn't he have just curled up and waited for the dream to end?

The strange color turned out to be a tree, but it was a tree unlike any he had ever seen anymore. The trunk and the gnarled roots leading up to the tree were a pale light gray, and the leaves were yellow, like old paper, or nails that hadn't been cleaned in a long time. Was the tree dying? It would make sense, in a Waste-like place such as this. However, red flowers by the thousands grew on its branches, huddled among the wrinkled leave. Crimson petals shook free every time that awful breeze blew through the branches, the only thing if beauty in this entire place.

_Well, look who finally decided to show his face. Took you long enough, too._

He jumped at the words echoed through the place in a way his voice could not. Or maybe the words were inside his head? Either way, the voice had a hissing, rasping quality that scared him, like water boiling over and evaporating on the stove.

"W-Who said that? Sh-show yourself!"

_I'm right here, stupid child._

"I can't see you. Where are you?"

_You idiot. Why do people put so much stock in sight? One cannot see the wind, but that does not mean it doesn't exist._

The voice paused, and then heaved a great sigh, like the wind whistling through a deserted corridor. _Look closer, O Dull One. You'll find me._

However, he could not find what the voice wanted him to look closer at. There was nothing to look at in this place besides the strange tree. Still, there was something strange about the tree. Or the petals falling from the flowers, to be specific. Something about the way the petals fell was…off. They didn't dance in the breeze the way they were supposed to, and instead fell straight down, is if they were too heavy.

Then, with a start, he realized they weren't petals. The flowers were _bleeding_, drizzling scarlet drops into pools collecting in between the roots.

With a gasp, he turned tail and ran. He didn't care what the tree was, or who was behind the voice, or what they wanted; he wanted nothing to do with any of it. He just wanted to get out of this awful place.

_Running won't help, you know!_ the voice cackled, and the world burst into flames around him, despite the fact that there was no vegetation to feed the fire.

_I've been here the entire time,_ the voice hissed as he desperately tried to find a way to escape the flames all around him. _Do you think fleeing will help you escape? How do you expect to outrun me when I'm already here?_

Not caring about the fire anymore, he ran straight through, ignoring the flames licking at his skin. He could hear shriek behind him and a sound like flapping wings, and a set of claws sunk into his shoulders and back –

Suddenly, he jolted awake.

A dream. It was all just a bad dream. Thank the Goddess.

Something was off, though. He was laying on the ground in the middle of the shop – that was right, he had fallen asleep here last night. The lights had turned on, signifying daytime and Isabella's imminent arrival. But where was the Poochyena?

With a look of horror on his face, he raised his head to survey the shop. Small scratches covered the floor and parts of the walls, and bits of fluffy cotton were scattered here and there. There was a suspicious-looking puddle of yellow in one corner.

And there, up on the desk, was the Poochyena, tearing one of Isabella's files apart.

"What, no, stop!" he cried, then stopped in his tracks when the bell attached to the door rang. He froze, then slowly turned.

There, standing shell-shocked in the door, was Isabella. For a moment, she stood immobile, just staring at the damage to her shop.

Then, her mouth hardened, and she strode forward. He didn't see the blow coming, but he felt the hard_ crack_ of her palm upon his cheek, and the burning sting that came afterwards.

For a moment, she just glared at him, and he stared at her in shock, trying not to let tears gather in his eyes. A red imprint of her hand was left on his face – it might even bruise.

Then, Isabella let out a frustrated sigh. "I'll go find the supplies to clean all this up. I'll figure out what to do with you later," she said as she left the store once more.

The boy dropped to his knees, still shocked from the slap. He gently rested his hand on his cheek.

_Why do you let her do that?_ Suddenly, a voice whispered.

"H-huh?"

_Why did you let her hit you?_

"I made a mistake. It's only right," he whispered, shakily getting to his feet.

_If I were you, I would have fought back._

"Why would I do that?"

_So she wouldn't hurt me. I'd take those scissors on the desk and plunge them into her body until she stopped breathing._

Suddenly, his eyes were drawn to the silvery glint of those same scissors.

_Do it._

"N-No. That wouldn't be right."

_DO IT._

"No! Stop! She's so nice to me, I don't want to hurt her!"

_DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT KILL HER KILL HER KILL HER KILL HER END HER LIFE STAB HER UNTIL SHE STOPS BREATHING KILL HER KILL HER END HER DO IT_

When Isabella returned, she found him curled up in a ball on the floor, clutching his head, and screaming.

* * *

He didn't even flinch when the Doctor pushed the needle into the crook of his elbow. It was nothing more than a little pinch, nothing like the slap he had received earlier today.

The Doctor pressed a cotton swab to his arm once she had three vials of blood. "This shouldn't take more than a couple of minutes," she told them.

True to her word, the Doctor was back several minutes later. "Do you have a diagnoses?" Isabella asked.

"I do," she replied. "I had a guess beforehand; and his bloodwork conforms it. He's schizophrenic."

After a moment of silence, the doctor continued on. "I'm glad you brought him in. Many people will just leave their slaves on their own with such a condition, which doesn't help at all. Their personalities break down even further, until they became useless to society. As long as he takes his medication, he should still grow up to be an asset to the colony. However, it is my opinion – and that of the other Doctors here – that the pet store is not the best environment for his recovery. He'll have to be reassigned. I'm sure you can find another slave just as useful as he was."

"I'm sure I can," Isabella said as she walked out of the room without so much as a wave in his direction. He never saw her again.

The Doctor bustled around the room, pulling out a syringe and filling it with a clear liquid from a bottle off of one of the shelves. "I'm giving you an injection this time, because it'll have a more immediate effect," she told him as she pushed the needle into his arm. "This should last you about three days. After that, you'll need to get medication from a pharmacy," she said as she scanned the code with his ID number on his bracelet, then typed a few things into the computer to her night. "I just gave you access to the medication. All you have to do is go to the pharmacy, scan your bracelet, and they'll give you a bottle with the medication in it. Take two pills in the morning and two in the evening, about twelve hours apart, if you can manage it. If you do that, you shouldn't have any more problems. You'll be reassigned in a couple of days; until then, you'll be staying here so we can keep an eye on you."

She smiled as she turned back to him. "Do you have any questions? I'm certainly capable of answering them."

He wasn't smiling, though. Instead, fat tears dripped from his gray eyes. It had been a long, stressful day, and suddenly it just seemed too much for the eight-year-old. "Why?" he whispered. "Why did this have to happen to me?"

The Doctor frowned, and settled a hand on his shoulder. "Unfortunately, genetics isn't an exact science yet. Doctors like myself always do their best to generate the most favorable genetic matches when creating the next generation, but there is some randomness that must be accounted for. One in a thousand times, things don't go the way we expect them to."

"But if it's only one in a thousand times, why _me_? There were nine hundred ninety nine other children to pick from!" he sobbed.

The Doctor sighed. "For the answer to that, you'd have to ask a Priestess."

* * *

Leah smiled at the girl beside her. She really did think she was pretty. Ivy had straight, dark brown hair that somehow always managed to stay sleek and soft. Her eyes a sharp, intelligent gray. Though she had heard a couple of girls say that they were perpetually glaring, to Leah, they were protective, watchful, kind. She reached over to intertwine their fingers in the grass they were laying in.

"Ivy, I have to admit, I'm kind of nervous about tomorrow," she told her. Maybe she would be able to give her some advice. Ivy was two years older than her, though she wasn't sure if she was already training for a career. She would have assumed that she did – all girls got careers at Leah's age, eight years old, and Ivy was already ten. Yet Ivy was in her class, which was divided by age group, and she was older. Leah remembered the first day she had walked into class, and the Caretaker said she was going to stay with them for a while, something that had never happened before. It just wasn't normal.

Of course, nothing was ever normal around Ivy, especially not the butterflies she set off in Leah's stomach.

"_You're_ nervous?" Ivy laughed, turned over onto her side to twirl Leah's honey blonde hair around one of her fingers. Leah loved to see the contrast between her fair hair and Ivy's olive skin. "You, the one who volunteered to spend the night in the haunted corridor on the south side? I thought you were fearless!"

"I am scared of some things, you know," Leah giggled.

"Like what?" Ivy smiled. "Really, Leah, you've already taken all your preliminary tests. All you need is the psychological exam. It's just to get a read on your personality, and the Doctors are all really nice, I promise."

"It's not the tests themselves I'm worried about. It's finding out my career," she whispered. "I know, all jobs are equal, everything needs to be done. The right tool for the right job, right? But…but what if they want me to be an Overseer or something?"

For a moment, Ivy just stared at her. Then, she rolled over onto her back and howled with laughter.

Leah huffed. "I'm really scared over here! Don't laugh at me."

Eventually, Ivy was able to control her chuckles. "Leah, out of everyone in the class, you are probably the _least_ likely to become an overseer. You're intelligent, you're nurturing, you're gentle. Only the most _masculine_ of women become Overseer," she sneered, "and those are the opposite of masculine."

Now Leah was smiling. "I guess so. You're right, I shouldn't be worried. They're really careful when they pick careers, aren't they? They try to give you a job you'll be happy in." She glanced up at the sky. The sun was setting over the high walls surrounding the garden. Soon it would be nighttime. "We should probably be getting back," Leah sighed. "I have one of the earlier appointments, I'd like to get a good night's sleep beforehand," she said as she stood, brushing the grass off of her clothes.

"Leah, wait," Ivy stopped her from leaving, standing as well. "There's a reason I called you out here today. I have to leave tomorrow."

"What? No! Why?" Leah didn't want her to leave. It had only been a year, she didn't want to lose Ivy!

"I just do," Ivy told her. "But I really want to know what your career is. Can we try to meet up outside your room after you find out? Then we can say our goodbyes too."

"Okay," Leah nodded. She moved forward and kissed Ivy on the cheek, wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug.

"Hey, don't act like this is goodbye!" Ivy laughed. "I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

Leah nodded. "Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow!"

* * *

Leah walked to the Doctor's office the next morning in an excellent mood. Last night had been full of good dreams, though she didn't quite remember what they were about. All she knew was that they left her with a warm, light, happy feeling the next morning.

The resident psychologist smiled as she opened the door to find Leah. "Hello. 3064-188-094-01, right? Do you have a name you go by?"

"Yes, I'm Leah," she told her. "I'm here for my psychological exam?"

"I'll be ready for you in a few minutes," she told her. "I'm just finishing up with one of my patients. Can you stay in the waiting room for a while? You can play with Marie, if you want," she suggested, pointing to a Skiddo napping in the corner.

"Thank you very much, I think I'll do just that," she told the Doctor as she closed the door. She walked over to the Skiddo and scratched behind its ears, giggling as its sleepy eyes opened up and she pressed her head up into her hand, almost as if to say, _Why did you wake me u-ooohhh, keep scratching behind my ears like that, it feels fantastic._

Leah giggled and reached around to scratch under her chin as well, though Marie leaped to her feet at that and wiggled away, like she was saying, _No, no, I'm ticklish there!_

Leah laughed. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to!"

The Skiddo promptly turned her back to her and sat down, as if to say, _I don't care anymore, leave me be._

"Oh, don't be like that," Leah sighed, wrapping her arms around the Pokémon's neck. "I didn't mean to tickle you."

That was when she noticed the two adults standing in the door. "Leah, who are you talking to?" the Doctor asked, a strange expression on her face.

"Marie, of course," Leah responded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The Doctor looked at the woman next to her. "You don't think…?"

"You're probably right," the other woman replied. She had wavy, golden hair pulled over her shoulder in a braid and kind, green eyes. "Why don't you run a test to find out?"

The Doctor walked back into her office and returned with a syringe and a couple of vials. "Okay, Leah, we just need to draw a couple of vials of blood."

As soon as Leah saw the needle, though she panicked and began to cry. "Please don't give me a shot. I hate shots!" she sobbed.

"No, no, it's just a little prick, it's not that bad," the Doctor soothed as she tried to grab her arm, but Leah resisted. She threw both of her arms around a shocked, still ruffled Marie and began to bawl in earnest.

The other woman stopped the Doctor as she went to go grab Leah again. "It's pretty upsetting to see her like this, isn't it?" she asked. "The Doctors keep files of amniotic fluid, right? Can you run the test with that?"

"I can," the Doctor said, "But it might take several hours to find it and run the tests needed. Blood work could be completed in a matter of minutes."

"Would you rather do that or deal with her like this?"

The Doctor took one look at the still screeching Leah, then went to find a phone to call to find Leah's amniotic fluid.

When she returned, she wordlessly handed a file to the strange woman, then knelt down before Leah, who was still whimpering and hiding behind Marie. "I'm not going to subject you to anymore needles," she promised, "But I need Marie back. Make yourself comfortable, you're going to be here for a while." She returned Marie to a Pokéball, then walked back into her office.

Leah slowly dried her eyes, then glanced shyly up at the strange woman. She had settled herself on a couch, and had the file laid out on the coffee table in front of her, glancing over the papers within. When she noticed Leah looking at her through the tears on her lashes, she smiled kindly and patted the seat next to her, and invitation.

Warily, Leah sat down beside her. "What were you guys talking about?" she asked.

"I'll answer that, if you answer one of my questions. How long have you been able to talk to Pokémon?"

"Huh?" Leah stared at her. "I was just playing pretend with Marie. I pretended I knew what she was saying based on how she was acting."

"Yes, that. How long have you been doing that?"

"I don't know," Leah shrugged. "A few years? It's just a game. Some Pokémon are easier to read than others. I wasn't really talking to her."

"Or were you?" the woman asked. "The talent often manifests itself in strange ways, and takes training to master. I _do_ think you can talk to Pokémon. My name is Archivist Annabelle, and I have the talent. You were responding as if you were talking directly to Marie. Leah, I think you're a Priestess, and your file only confirms it," she told her, indicating the papers spread out in front of her.

Priestess? Archivist? Leah had heard of those before – women who had the ability to talk to Pokémon, who worshipped the Goddess, who provided guidance to the lost, who battled the evil Team Genome.

"Archivist…" she whispered. "You've been outside the colony? What are the Wastelands like? What about the Wildlands? What legendary pokemon did you catch?"

Annabelle laughed. "So curious, aren't you? I caught a Virizion. Unfortunately, Archivists are forbidden from talking about the trials with anyone buy other Archivists. However," she leaned in and glanced around conspiratorially, as if she were about to tell Leah a big secret, "If you become a Priestess, you might one day become an Archivist and find out for yourself."

Leah's eyes went wide. "Really?" The idea of the Wastes and the Wilds scared her – anyone who wasn't scared of them was either stupid or crazy – but that didn't mean she wasn't curious. "Will…will you tell me about being a Priestess, then? What it's like?"

"I'll do better than that. How about I tell you the story of the Goddess?"

So Leah spent the next several hours hearing stories from Archivist Annabella. She learned about the random chaos that existed before creation, and the Earth-Mother's birth from it. She learned of her attempt to create another perfect being out of chaos, but all she could create was Sky-Father. She learned of how distraught she was by her own failure, and how she cast Sky-Father away from her in her distress. She learned of how the Goddess began to create from herself – her body became the earth, her tears became rivers and oceans, her eyes the sun and moon, so she could always keep an eye on Sky-Father's many failings, and each drop of her blood became a pokemon. She learned how she began to use portions of her spirit to create women, but was unable to complete them, and was forced to finish them with a portion of the Sky-Father's spirit, thus creating the inferior race of men. She learned of how she split the last bit of her spirit into pieces, and they became legendary pokemon, and the Archivist's ultimate goal of collecting all the legendary pokemon so they might revive the Earth-Mother.

Finally, hours later, the Doctor returned. Leah held her breath and hoped. If, after all this, she didn't turn out to be a Priestess, she didn't know what she'd do. She silently handed an envelope to Archivist Annabelle, who opened it and read the contents before turning to Leah.

"Congratulations, Leah. Welcome to the Holy Order of the Goddess."

* * *

"Ivy! Ivy!" Leah screamed as she ran down the halls toward her room. She couldn't wait to tell her!

However, no one was waiting for Leah outside her door. Leah slowed down from her mad sprint as she approached her door and realized Ivy wasn't there. The only thing there was a letter and a Pokéball.

Leah picked up the letter, opened it up, and read it.

_Leah – _

_I'm sorry. I waited for a long time, but you didn't come back. Don't be upset, sometimes these things take longer than usual!_

_I have to go now. It's time for me to leave. You don't need to worry, though. I'm going to come visit you sometime, and see how your training is going._

_Until then, I want you to hold onto Rollo. That way, you'll have something to remember me by._

_See you soon,_

_Ivy_

Leah felt tears gather at the corners of her eyes. Tomorrow, she would be leaving for the Center, where the Goddess' temple was. Ivy wouldn't be able to find her. With shaky hands, she grabbed the Pokéball next to the letter and pressed the button in the center. In a burst of red light, Ivy's Burmy, Rollo, appeared. It gave a trill in greeting.

Leah wrapped her arms around him and began to cry.

* * *

**A/N:** Welcome to my new story! If you haven't figured it out by now, it's a dystopian, post-apocolyptic AU where women rule supreme. A quick comment before I launch into things like OC submissions - I know someone out there is going to leave a scathing, highly misinformed review, wondering why I hate men and why I'm such a misandrist. Well, listen up - _An author doesn't believe everything they write_. I don't think men should be slaves, I don't believe in all the sexist comments going on in this story. The point of the society is to take every sexist problem in today's society, reverse it, and make it extreme. Oh, women are too sensitive to do _? Not according to the women here - to them, men aren't emotional enough and are therefore lacking and not complete beings. Point is, just because I write these sexist things doesn't mean I believe them.

Actually, this is going to be my story for NaNoWriMo! I would appreciate lots of support and nice messages and stuff to keep me writing. I'll start writing the next chapter on November 1st. Check out my post in the discussion thread for more information.

As for OCs, I need all kinds! I need both men and women within the colony, men and women in Team Genome, and men and women not affiliated with either. There are rules in the OC Submission thread, please read them all before submitting. I know one thing I absolutely need is a Priestess friend or two for Leah, but please, please, please, let's not have every girl be a Priestess. Otherwise, there's nothing else I really, really need for next chapter. I do need more Team Genome characters eventually, though. One thing I will ask, though, is that I don't get a whole bunch of women in the colony who think men are equal. I need people who are the baseline, not outliers. To be honest, baseline characters will probably be more likely to be picked than characters who really stretch my rules without permission. Just because they're normal within the context of the society doesn't mean they're not interesting! Also, feel free to submit as many characters you want, whether it's one or ten. I can't use everyone, after all. However, characters that are well-thought out, more in-depth, will be more likely to be picked. Also, if you want your character to show up by the next chapter, it needs to be submitted by November 1st, 11 AM PST. Otherwise, OC submissions never close, feel free to submit one six chapters in, or add one in you just came up with later on!

The Discussion Thread and the OC Submission thread can both be found at the bottom of my profile. Please submit OCs to the thread, unless you are an anonymous reader, in which case, if you absolutely have to, you can submit via review, as long as you use the form and follow all the rules.

I look forward to seeing all your characters! Thanks for reading and please review!

~Ami


	2. Chapter 1

"It's not a good idea," his friend – 3063-206-332-04 – murmured under his breath, his amber eyes darting toward the Overseer patrolling the aisles. "It doesn't matter what for, you'll be in a lot of trouble."

Life had not treated him well after he had left Isabella's pet store. Most women didn't want him in their stores, nor did they want him as a personal slave. He didn't blame them – he was damaged goods; he wouldn't want himself, either. They had placed him outside for a month, much to his horror. However, anyone could tell he didn't fit in. His fair skin burned easily, and he was so much smaller and weaker than all of the other slaves out there. Finally, it was decided that working with large groups of other slaves would be best for him – things like factory work and cleaning – or, in his case, cooking.

Cooking was different from working in the pet store, not just in what he was doing, but in the experiences behind it. At the pet store, he had worked with only two other boys. The three of them had worked together to do everything that needed to be done within the store – they fed the Pokémon, they cleaned the cages and the shop, they filed records – anything that Isabella had needed them to do, really. He was hit occasionally, but only when he had made a mistake.

Life in the kitchens was very different. Here, he worked with about a hundred other slaves, some of which he had never talked to before. Each of them only had a single job, though what they were making and the job they were doing changed every day. Worst of all, though there were owners of the restaurant, they left most of the interactions with the slaves to the Overseers. Oh, he knew they were only there to make sure he did his job. Still, it felt like they got some sort of twisted pleasure out of hitting him. He did his best to keep his head down, to avoid being noticed, with only some success. He would have liked working in the kitchens – though he would have happily done any job in the colony (better than living in the Wastes!), he sort of enjoyed cooking – if the Overseers only wouldn't hit him for every mistake!

Unfortunately, his situation had become dire as of late. He had spent the time since he was nine going from kitchen to kitchen, some worse than others. This one, however, was the worst. He was now sixteen years of age, and had been working in this particular kitchen for the past three years. At first, the Overseers didn't even want to let him take his medication, but after he had burst into tears in the middle of a clinic, a Doctor had explained the situation, and he was allowed his medicine; thank the Goddess.

Life in the kitchen was hard, though. He worked longer hours here than he had anywhere else, and on less food. Over the years, he had slowly lost much of his body fat, and now the skin seemed to hang from his bones. Even worse, he hadn't been able to keep his medicine down for the past week or so, and he didn't know why. He still took the medication, of course – even the little bit he digested before it came back up would help, right? – but it couldn't be long before the voices and nightmares returned. He hadn't relapsed since he was diagnosed, and he didn't want to now.

Which was why he was preparing to put this mad plan into action. He had heard that some medications were easier to digest when they were taken with food. It would make sense – he had eaten little more than scraps for the past couple of weeks. If it was true, all he needed to do was eat something and take his medication.

"You've never heard it," he hissed to his friend, also keeping an eye on the Overseer. "You've never had the nightmares. It was _awful_. I can't live like that!"

"Listen to me," his friend whispered. His wavy hair fell forward into his eyes, and he pushed it back with a floury hand. Specks of white clung to the black strands. "If you start hearing the voices again, the Overseers and the owners will realize it. They'll probably even give you more food from now on so you can take your medicine!"

"I know you're worried – if they catch me, they'll probably beat you too, since you're working with me. But…no. I can't go back to that. I _can't_!"

His friend shot him a sympathetic glance. "It's not _me_ I'm worried about," he mumbled. "It's _you_."

"Well, don't," he replied. "Trust me on this. It's something I need to do."

Today would be the perfect day to do it, too. For the past few days, he had switched between mixing ingredients for bread and kneading dough. Today, he was slicing the cooked loaves and placing the slices onto trays before moving them to the next slave in line. He was working with his friend – though pretty nervous, he wouldn't alert an Overseer – they were friends, after all! All he would need to do was take a slice for himself. He felt bad that he was taking some poor woman's food, but the situation was desperate.

The Overseer wasn't looking, so he pulled one of the slices out of the loaf and hid it behind a pan toward the back of the counter. He grabbed the pan – minus a slice of bread – and carried it to the next slave in line.

When he turned back around, the Overseer was standing at his station, a vicious smile on her face and the slice of bread held high in the air. "Well, it looks like we have ourselves a little thief!" It looked more like she was bearing her teeth rather than smiling.

"No, no, I – "

"Were you given permission to speak, slave?" her partner hissed. "No? I thought not." She threw the bread at his feet. "Better eat up," she taunted. "You'll need it."

For half a second, he froze, and his mind went into overdrive. Punishment for speaking out of turn wasn't too bad – a beating, at worst. If one knew how to curl their body just right, they would come out of it without any broken bones at all, since the point was to punish and teach, and not to actually injure.

Thievery, however, was a much worse crime to commit. In this, they would want not only to punish him, but to make an example of him and prevent him from doing it again. At best – meaning if they decided to ignore the fact that he spoke out of turn, which they wouldn't – he would come out of this with twenty lashes.

He had never been whipped before, but he heard it was awful. He didn't want to be whipped. He just wanted something to eat, so he wouldn't have to deal with the voices. He didn't want to be hurt. He didn't want to be hurt. He didn't want to be hurt…

Without thinking through the consequences of his actions, he snatched up the slice of bread and bolted.

"He's running! After him!" one of the Overseers cried, and the chase was on. He darted through the busy hallway, bursting through a line of young girls and knocking down a Caretaker on his way – another five lashes to be added to his punishment. Then again, he didn't know any slaves who had actually run from a punishment. He was probably far beyond a simple whipping now. What kind of punishment would he be subject to when he was caught?

_No. Stop thinking about that. Just keep running._ That one thought rang clear through his jumbled mess of a mind. That was all he needed to do. Focus on running. Everything would turn out okay. As long as he repeated that lie to himself, he could survive.

At first, he stuck to the quieter hallways, the back corridors and the residential parts of the colony. He had to run fast here, make quick, tight turns and unpredictable motions to keep them off of his trail. Still, they were always right behind him – there was no time to stop and take a break.

Then, once he had a bit of a lead on them, he darted out into one of the more crowded plazas and slowed down. He dropped his head and shoulders, focused his eyes on the ground, and blended into the crowd. A couple moments later, the Overseers emerged from the hall. From the corner of his eye, he could see their heads turn from side to side as they tried to pick him out of the crowd. Good luck. In this group, full of slaves and other women, it would be hard to distinguish him from everyone else. He quietly slipped into a dark hall at the other end of the plaza and jogged off again.

He repeated the process several more times, just to make sure he had lost them. Finally, he emerged in an empty plaza. He dropped to his knees, panting and sweating. He didn't know how long he had been running for, and in all honesty, he didn't want to know. He shoved the bread he was still holding into his mouth, barely bothering to chew before he swallowed. He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out the two pills he had stored in their earlier that day. Fighting off a case of the hiccups, he tossed them into his mouth and swallowed.

Crisis averted. Thank the Goddess.

Now that he wasn't running – or starving; that helped too – he had a moment to think. Why was this plaza empty? There were dozens upon dozens of plazas throughout the colony – they were placed wherever two or more of the large roads intersected, though there were a few that were just placed in the middle of a single, large hallway. Usually, they were full of shops and people; sometimes even a monorail station.

This one in particular was the kind of plaza that only had one large road going through it, though there were a couple of small hallways that also connected to it, like the one he had just come out of. There were no shops here – in fact, it was completely deserted. The only thing there was a large fountain in the center of the circular room, the top stretching up toward the vaulted ceiling. Strangely enough, the large road to his left was sloping upwards, as if –

_Oh._

This was one of the four plazas at the edges of the colony – this one was the North Plaza, on the north side of the colony, obviously. The path sloping upward led into the farms surrounding the colony, and beyond those were the four gates, the four exits to the colony itself that the Priestesses used to leave. This one would lead to the North Gate. No one really ever went to any of the four main plazas – no one but slaves and Overseers needed to, unless the colony was sending off a Priestess.

For a moment, he was struck by a crazy idea. He could run away. He could leave this place. He would never have to deal with beatings or starvation or…or any of that! He could live for himself, instead of working for someone else.

However, just as soon as the idea occurred to him, he crushed it. Beyond the Gates were the Wastes, and beyond that the Wilds. If the land itself didn't kill him, the people out there would. Living a life of servitude was better than living out there. Even if he was beaten, even if he went hungry, it was better than the short life full of fear he would live out there. Besides, how would he even get out? The gates were almost always closed, and, open or not, were always watched by at least five Guards. He would never be able to fight back against all five (or more!) or them, nor did he really want to.

He should probably just go back to the kitchens and accept his punishment. After all, it was him that had stolen the food. He had talked back, he had run away. He should have just listened to his friend. It was all his fault; whatever they decided to do to him, it was all his fault, he should just –

All of a sudden, the ground rumbled ominously. He settled a hand on the fountain to steady himself. An earthquake? They happened occasionally, but weren't anything to worry about. All of the hallways in the colony were reinforced several times over; the worst that could happen would be some merchandise would fall and break.

Just as soon as it started though, it stopped. Well, now that that bit of excitement was over with, he should probably –

With an ear-splitting _screeeeeeeeech_, the metal of one of the hallways split open, and in slithered a Steelix, making a strange growling, grumbling sound. It hauled its massive bulk into the plaza, piling its coils on top of itself.

After it stopped moving, it noticed him, kneeling there with his jaw hanging open. For a moment, the two stared at each other, the Steelix looking down on the human that must have looked like a tiny Bug-type Pokémon, the boy staring up at Steel-type which towered above him.

Then, the Steelix roared and lunged.

* * *

Leah was just returning from a funeral pyre in the farmlands aboveground. She hadn't known the woman, but she knew that she had been a close friend of one of the Archivists and a semi-prominent member of the government in the Center. Conducting funeral rights and sending the spirits of the dead back to the Mother Goddess was Priestess work, though. The Archivists were often busy with their other duties, they had no time to do the work meant for those of a lower rank, so she had been unable to attend. Instead, Leah went in her place. It was always so sad when a good woman left the colony to pass on, but at least she was at peace in the arms of the Earth-Mother now.

She was only just returning to the underground when she heard the screaming.

Priestesses were often the first ones called to action in a disaster. Not only did their ability to communicate with Pokémon make them fantastic trainers, but their connection to the Goddess allowed them to give spiritual guidance to those in need of it after an accident. That was why Leah did not hesitate to run in the direction of the screaming (and the roaring, which she could hear now), instead of away from it.

The North Plaza was a mess. The elaborate fountain that was supposed to decorate the middle of it was smashed to rubble, and water spurted from the broken pipes beneath it. The walls were scuffed and torn, and bits of metal were strewn across the room.

And there, in the center of it all, curled an enraged Steelix; one of the largest she had ever seen. It was the source of the roaring from before – and now of a deep, throaty hissing sound. It had cornered a human, tiny next to the monstrous Pokémon, between a wall of the plaza and its own massive tail.

Well, she knew it wouldn't work, but one always had to try to take the easy route first. "Calm yourself, friend!" she called up to the Pokémon, holding up her hands to show she meant no harm. The human it had cornered – a slave – looked up from his cowering, his eyes full of desperate hope.

Leah paid him no mind. "In this colony, if you do no harm to others, you are under the protection of the Earth-Mother, the Goddess who created us all. Please leave this lowly slave alone."

For a moment, the Steelix froze in its gradual approach toward the slave. Then, it slowly turned toward her.

Letting out an ear-splitting roar, it charged.

Well, she had known it wouldn't work. Guess that left no choice but to battle. She pulled a Pokéball from the belt on her waist and threw it.

"Go, Morgan!" In a flash of red light, a Braixen appeared. Morgan had been the first Pokémon she received after becoming a Priestess – she had hatched her egg herself. A partner like that wouldn't let her down, even in a situation as stressful as this.

"Morgan, use Flame Charge!" Leah ordered. The Braixen gave a bark of confirmation, and in a moment, her golden fur was cloaked in flames. "Rush at it! Keep it cornered!"

Morgan lunged at the Steel-type Pokémon, her shoulder landing squarely between the Steelix's eyes. The Pokémon gave a roar of pain and recoiled back, while Morgan landed on her paws near the slave, the flames surrounding her fur dispelling. She ushered the slave out of the way into one of the surround hallways.

The Steelix shook off its surprise – obviously, it hadn't expected Morgan to attack first. It was probably more prepared for an attack now, but it was too late. Flame Charge was a move that increased a Pokémon's speed when used, and Morgan was already a pretty quick Pokémon.

With a cry, the Steelix burrowed into the ground, the steel making an awful squeal as it bent and then split to make way for its huge body. Morgan's speed wouldn't help very much if the Steel-type Pokémon was underground. "Keep on your toes, Morgan!" she ordered. "It'll emerge any second now!"

For a tense moment, the two of them waited, frozen. Then, the ground rumbled once more, and the Steelix burst from the ground directly below Morgan. The Braixen let out a cry as she was thrown back, but managed to land on her feet.

"Now, Morgan! Use Fire Spin, while it's still coming up from the ground!" Morgan pulled the stick stored in her tail and waved it in the air. The tip flamed to life, and fiery tracks hovered in the air where the wand had touched. Then, Morgan gave a decisive flick of her wand, and the ground underneath the Steelix erupted in a whirlpool of flames. The Steel-type let out a screech of pain, recoiling much more.

The opposing Pokémon had a weakness to Morgan's Fire-type moves. It probably couldn't take many more hits. Instead of ordering Morgan to go in for the final hit, though, Leah pulled an empty Pokéball from the bag hanging over her shoulder and threw it at the Steelix. It rolled once, twice, three times, then finally clicked shut.

Leah gave a sigh of relief, a hand resting over her pounding heart. It was over. She had won. She walked over to the Pokéball on the ground and picked it up, storing it in her bag. She would figure out what had caused the Steelix to attack in the first place – not to mention why it had decided to attack the colony and the poor unfortunate slave who happened to be nearby – later.

Morgan had approached the slave to check on him. The young man was stilling sitting shocked on the floor, seemingly staring at nothing. Morgan tilted her head to the right and gave a questioning, trilling growl.

"Don't worry," Leah assured her, "just don't corner him. You'll only scare him more. Come over here." Obedient as ever, Morgan walked over to Leah. She scratched gently behind her ears, and Morgan gave a pleased hum. "We'll get you fixed up afterwards," Leah promised as she spotted a couple of scratches on her. "Let's take care of him, first." Then, she extended her hand toward the cowering slave. "Don't be scared. It's gone now."

Slowly, he emerged from his hiding spot, crawling forward to gently clasp her hand. Leah's first thought was of how bony his hands were and how gaunt his face was. Bones weren't meant to stick out like the way his were. It didn't look like this slave had a good meal in a while. The idea made Leah frown. The Way of the Goddess taught that men were inferior to women – such facts were indisputable. However, it was also taught that men could not help being born men – who could help who or what they were born as? If a man followed the teachings of the Goddess and served the women who owned him well, there was no need to starve or hit him.

This slave also needed a bath. His scent wasn't necessarily entirely unpleasant yet – he was probably from the kitchens, her nose informed her – but he definitely smelled like his body or clothes hadn't seen water in several days. His brown hair, cut around his ears, was oily, and curled up at the ends.

Leah was about to ask him what he was doing out here when he raised his desperate gray eyes to hers. She paused right before speaking – something about this slave was so _familiar_, though she was sure she had never seen him before. Something about his soft features, the shape of his face, the line of his jaw, the shape of his nose…

_Right, spiritual guidance. Focus, Leah!_

"Are you all right? You aren't hurt, are you?" she asked him. "You have permission to speak."

The boy's eyes went back to the ground. "N-no, miss. I'm not hurt."

"Oh, good!" she smiled. "That means – "

"Hey, there he is!"

Leah turned to find three Overseers turning the corner into the plaza. All of a sudden, the hand in her grip began to shake horribly, and she shot a sympathetic glance down at the slave.

The Overseers slowed as they approached them. "Priestess," one of them addressed her respectfully, "I see you've caught our runaway slave."

"Runaway?" Leah asked. "What happened?"

"He tried to steal bread, then ran away when we caught him," another informed her. "We need to take him back for punishment."

In all honesty, if they fed him as much as it looked like they fed him, Leah didn't blame the slave for stealing a bit of food. Still, it was not her place to tell them how to take care of their slaves. Though she could advise, she could not order them to feed their men more.

Still, she could help this one slave in this one situation.

Trying not to wrinkle her nose in disgust at his greasy hair, she gently rested a head on top of the slave's head. "This poor young man has had quite a scare today. I think he's learned his lesson about stealing and running away. I think you should let him off this once. If he disobeys again, feel free to punish him. I don't think he will, though. Will you?" she addressed the slave, and he shook his head vigorously from side to side.

The Overseers were stuck. She hadn't commanded them – if she had been an Archivist, she might have been able to, but she was only a Priestess – so she gave them the illusion of a choice. Still, they all knew that was exactly what it was – an illusion. How could they refuse a request from a holy instrument of the divine Mother Goddess herself? Instead, they agreed, and took the slave away. Leah didn't worry about the slave, at least for now. To break their word here would be sacrilege.

"That was well-handled." Leah jumped when a figure emerged from the hallway. It was none other than Archivist Annabelle. The woman had taken Leah under her wing ever since she had become a Priestess, and had done her best to help her along the way. The years had treated her remarkably well – the only signs of aging that Leah could see were the light crow's feet that had appeared next to her eyes. Otherwise, there was not a single gray hair in her braided blonde curls.

"Archivist Annabelle! I didn't know you were here."

"I arrived just in time to see your battle. I'm glad I did! You've become an excellent battler since you first became a Priestess," she smiled.

Leah blushed and averted her eyes to the floor modestly. "I only did what I was taught," she murmured.

"I also saw you help that slave. That was very kind of you."

"Everyone deserves a second chance every now and again, even slaves. I was merely the one to provide it. Besides, when we all work together, we'll have a better, stronger, more efficient society."

"Still. Not everyone would have done what you did today."

"No, it was nothing."

Now she was laughing. "Leah, you needn't be so modest! Learn to take a compliment."

Leah chuckled at herself. "Thank you, Archivist."

"There we go. That wasn't so hard was it?" she said as she turned to leave. Then, she paused. "Oh! Just so you know, I'll be nominating you for a possible Archivist position to the other Archivists. A cool head in a disaster is something we need among our members, and you've obviously displayed that you have that quality."

That caused Leah to start. "No, really, you don't have to – "

Annabelle heaved a heavy sigh. "Leah, what did I just say about accepting compliments?"

Looking down once more, Leah laced her fingers together. "Thank you, Archivist Annabelle," she mumbled.

"Excellent. I look forward to seeing you among our members in the next few years," Annabelle smiled. Then, she walked off, leaving behind a dismayed Leah in the midst of the wreckage of the North Plaza.

* * *

"I hear you've been nominated to be an Archivist."

Leah gave an exasperated sigh as she turned away from her computer toward her friend. "Of course I have. What do you think all this is for?" She indicated the room the two of them were now sitting in.

Leah had just finished moving quarters. Up until a few days ago, she had lived in one of the rooms attached to the Temple of the Earth-Mother, just as she had since she was an apprentice Priestess. Unfortunately, now that she was being considered for an Archivist position, the smaller quarters closest to the Temple would not befit someone of her (potential) ranking. And, of course, they would not fit the newest member in her team of Pokémon, Meena the Steelix.

She didn't really mind her new quarters, though. They were still close to the Temple; close enough that she could walk there in a fairly short amount of time, so she was never late to work. It was also, much, _much_ bigger than her last apartment – in this one, most of the ceilings were high, and the rooms were spacious enough that she could fit all six Pokémon on her team in one comfortable, even the thirty foot Steelix. It had a living room, a kitchen, a couple of bedrooms, a very large room for her Pokémon to play in, even an elevator up to the gardens _inside_ the apartment, so she could quickly take her Pokémon out for a bit of fresh air. The suite itself was like a dream come true.

The condition it was received under, not so much.

"What, you don't like your new quarters?" her friend asked, patting Meena's side to convince the huge Steelix to bend down

"No, I love them. I'm just…frustrated." Leah tried and failed to suppress a snicker. The image of her tiny friend with one foot on Meena's gigantic lower jaw and a hand resting on her upper as her other waved flashlight around inside her mouth to check for tooth decay and gum damage was just too comical. She was glad Meena wasn't quite as violent as she had originally though – in fact, the Pokémon had been more than amiable since she had released her from her Pokéball about a day after catching her. Wendy shot her a cold glare, and Leah pressed her lips together, trying to keep more of her chuckles from escaping.

Wendy was actually a very close friend of Leah's. She was very short, less than five feet tall, and looked kind of like a child despite the fact that she was of age with Leah; a fact which she hated. Her shoulder-length, dark blue hair was constantly tied back in a ponytail to keep it out of her face as she worked. She adjusted her glasses on her face as she turned her attention back to Meena.

Wendy and Leah had met a couple of years after she had been apprenticed as a Priestess, thought she could hardly say they had hit it off. Wendy worked as a healer of Pokémon at the local Healer's office. Her mentor was often called in to take care of injured Pokémon for the Priestesses and Archivists, so of course her pupil would come with her. At first, Leah was sure Wendy hated her. She had a cold nature, and didn't talk much – she was a bit of a loner. Still, she had done nothing to harm her, so Leah was polite to her. It took her a while to see that Wendy was actually a very kind person, but in a strange sort of way, was almost shy about showing her kindness to others, though the reason why she did this Leah couldn't fathom. After that, Leah went out of her way to talk to her a little every time she visited, and the two became reasonably good friends. They weren't necessarily always talkative when they met up – sometimes, they would just relax and read together. In fact, this was probably the most talkative she had seen Wendy in a long time, though she wasn't sure she was glad of it.

Finally, Wendy released Meena, switching off her flashlight as she did so. "I can't find anything wrong with her," she told Leah. "No tooth decay, no wounds, no signs of sickness, nothing. I have no idea what could have caused her to start rampaging. Did you ask her why she attacked?"

"Yeah, but I have no idea. She's not exactly forthcoming with the details, but it's also possible that even she doesn't know. Who knows why wild Pokémon do things?" She paused before continuing, "I was also thinking it might have been some sort of attack by Team Genome. I considered talking to the Archivists about it."

Wendy was silent for a moment, before she hit her palm with her fist in an _ah-ha!_ gesture. "You're frustrated because you're being considered for an Archivist position."

"Wow, great way to change the subject, Wendy."

"I knew that was it." Leah rolled her eyes at her friend, but Wendy continued, "Why are you upset that you might become an Archivist? I thought that was supposed to be a dream come true or something."

Leah sighed. "How much do you know about the selection process to become an Archivist?"

"Not very much. I assume you're about to educate me on the subject."

"More or less, an Archivist will nominate a Priestess to be promoted. This is not an overly difficult feat to achieve – one or two Priestesses may be nominated a year. However, all the other Archivists must then vote on whether or not they think the Priestess is worthy. The voting must be unanimous either way – a potential Archivist can be neither accepted nor rejected unless all of the Archivists agree. The process can take years – even _decades_."

"It's not the actual voting that I'm worried about, and it's not going out into the Wilds. It's the period between nomination and deciding whether or not I'm worthy. During that period – which, I re-emphasize, can take _years_ – the potential Archivist is under close scrutiny. Every action she makes, every move she takes, _everything_ she does is judge by the elder Archivists. I can't even just refuse to be nominated – it's a grave affront, since every Priestess obviously wants to be an Archivist."

"I think you're worrying too much," Wendy informed her. "It's true that it's hard to be watched that closely, but you really have nothing to lose either way. I'd be more worried about what happens if they decide to make you an Archivist – you'll have to go out into the Wastelands."

"I guess," Leah mumbled uncertainly. "Let's not think about that for now. Come help me with this. You have a personal servant, right?"

"I do," Wendy replied as she walked over to where Leah was sitting in front of the computer. "What are you doing?"

"I'm looking into getting my own personal servant. If I do end up becoming an Archivist, I'll need someone to take care of things here while I'm gone. Plus, I have a full team of six Pokémon now. I can take care of them on my own, but it'd be nice to have some help," she told her. "I've never had my own slave before, though, so I don't really know what I'm looking for."

Wendy glanced over her shoulder at the files of the hundreds of slaves in the colony popping up on the screen. "Well, first of all, you're going about this the wrong way. You've just got a bunch of files here, and no system. Try dragging them into this application here," she said, tapping one of the icons on the desktop. Leah did as she asked. The app opened automatically as she did.

"See, now the files are a little more organized. You've got their pictures, ID numbers, ages, and any important information on each individual bar. You can click on the bars themselves to see the files in detail. Are there any qualities in particular you're looking for?"

"I've heard that older slaves tend to be better. Is that a good place to start?"

Wendy shrugged. "As good as any. A word of advice, though. It's true that older slaves have more experience, and tend to know what they're doing. However, they may easily fall into old habits, and that can be frustrating. What if you have a food allergy, and the mistress they had before loved that food? They might accidentally make it for you. Younger slaves may not be as experienced, but they're easier to train and usually more eager to please. It's up to you, though."

"You know best. I'll try that," she nodded. "So, I assume we're going to click 'Sort', then 'By Age', and then 'Youngest to Oldest'?" The files quickly reorganized themselves by age. Leah wrinkled her nose as the first page of slaves that popped up were all eight years old. She quickly began to scroll down.

After several moments of scrolling, she began to slow down, as she began to reach slaves at fifteen and sixteen years of age. "Younger, right? But not too young?"

"If that's what you want?"

"Okay, but what about – " Leah paused as a face caught her eye. The boy that had been attacked by Meena a few days ago? Well, this was a database of all the slaves in the colony. She skimmed over his other information. Brown hair, gray eyes, five feet, seven inches, ID number 3064-188-094-02…

_Huh. How strange._ Leah glanced down at the silver bracelet on her wrist with her own ID number. 3064-188-094-01. "That's weird."

"What is?" Wendy asked.

"Oh, not much. My ID's just one number off from this slave's."

Wendy just shrugged. "I wouldn't think too hard about it. It's a random system. I wouldn't be surprised if there's been someone with the same ID as you in the past."

"You're right. Still kind of cool, don't you think?"

"If you say so. Focus, though. Do you want him as your personal servant?"

Leah thought back to her pity for the slave a few days ago, and the helplessness she had felt, knowing she couldn't help him.

She smiled. "Maybe I do."

* * *

**A/N:** Well, here's the first chapter! Ehehe, three days into NaNoWriMo and I'm already behind.

For those of you just joining us, welcome to The XY Factor! For those of you reading this in a distant, post-apocalyptic future, welcome to you as well!

Not much to say this time. OC submissions are obviously still open, so feel free to send them in when you want.

I hope you enjoyed; please review!

~Ami


	3. Chapter 2

He spent a week terrified of what would happen to him. Though the Overseers did not punish him for his original transgressions, thanks to the kindness of the Priestess that had saved him from the Steelix, they now took any excuse to torment him. They would trip him if they could get away with it and make him clean up the mess he made from dropping whatever he was carrying. A simple mistake would earn him a full-on beating, instead of just a quick punch. They even decreased his rations, though now he learned how to hide the food he was given until right before he had to take his medicine.

He could see his friend shooting him worried glances as they prepared to sleep on the night of the seventh day. The room was large, and housed every slave that worked in their kitchen. There were only four mattresses, though, and they were rotated between groups of people every night. He had been lucky enough to sleep on a mattress for a few days after his attempted escape, thanks to the kindness of the other slaves. However, they quickly learned that the Overseers weren't going to be treating him any better anytime soon, and then he was back to sleeping on the floor again.

"I shouldn't have done it," he mumbled, half to himself, half to his friend. "It's all my fault for being so stupid."

His friend rested a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Maybe. But it's over now. You can't change what's in the past, you only have control of the future. Just keep your head down – someone else will mess up eventually, and then they'll focus on them, and not you. Just focus on living through tomorrow for now."

He nodded. "You're right. Let's get some sleep."

The two of them curled up back-to-back – had to keep close to keep warm; they didn't heat the slaves' rooms, so body heat was the only way to keep from shivering through the night. He was quickly asleep.

"3064-188-094-02!" He was roused from his sleep very early, just before the lights would come on, he guessed. The Overseers were in the room, calling out an ID number and shaking slaves awake, or just walking over them if they didn't move fast enough.

"3064-188-094-02! Stand up, 3064-188-094-02!" Oh, that was his number! For a moment, he froze. If the Overseers were looking for him, it couldn't be good. He didn't think he had been disobedient yesterday; at least, not that he remembered. Maybe they were going to punish him for running away?

His friend gripped his arm. "Don't keep them waiting," he whispered. "Good luck."

He nodded and stood shakily. The Overseers saw him get to his feet, and one quickly made her way over to him. If her scowl was any indicator, she was extremely displeased, even more than usual. That wasn't a good sign.

"You're being transferred. Follow me," she told him before turning and tromping through the other slaves to leave the room. He hopped after her, trying to avoid stepping on anyone, though he wasn't entirely successful judging by a couple of yelps that echoed through the room.

Transferred? What did that mean? In any other situation, he would have just thought he was being given a new job, but that couldn't be it; not this time.

In the entrance to the kitchen stood a single Guard. That explained the frustration of the Overseers – it was often said that women who were given Guard jobs and women who were given Overseer jobs had very similar skill sets and personalities. However, the more feminine women were given jobs as Guards, while women who were more masculine were given Overseer jobs. While the Overseers were stuck taking care of slaves, Guards protected women of rank and importance, while also fighting off any attacks made by Team Genome. Though their occupations were similar, Guards were more respected than Overseers by a vast margin.

However, the presence of the Guard only served to confuse him more. He couldn't think of a single reason why a Guard would be there for him, especially not to take him to a new occupation.

"Here's the one you're looking for," the Overseer sneered at the Guard, shoving him forward. He fell to his knees right in front of the Guard.

The Guard ignored the Overseer. "3064-188-094-02?" she asked him? He nodded.

The Guard dropped a cloth bag into his hands. He fumbled for a moment, then caught it. He could hear and feel a rattle inside of it, and a large, cylindrical object – the bottle with his medication in it? He ventured a peek inside – yes, that was his medicine, as well as his spare change of clothes.

"We're going to the Center," she told him. He would have loved to ask a question, but he had not been given permission to speak, and the Guard was already leaving. He spared a glance back at the many curious eyes of the slaves staring out at him from the other room, then ran after the Guard, tripping once on the way.

The Guard led him through the twists and turns of the colony, keeping mostly to the larger roads, though they turned once or twice down a small alley. Eventually, they reached a large plaza, and boarded the monorail at the station there.

He had only been on a monorail a couple of times before, and those had been when he was very young; before he had even received his career. Except when Overseers were transporting large numbers of slaves, men were generally not allowed on monorails. Women used it for ease of transport to different parts of the colony. Some slaves were given special permission to use the monorails by women – for example, many servants had access to the monorail, so they might better serve their masters. However, for the most part, those that rode the monorail were almost exclusively female.

Unfortunately, the quiet of the train did little to calm his nerves. He still did not have permission to speak, so he could not ask why he was going to the Center. Had the Overseers reported his escape attempt? Was he going to be executed as an example? Or, even worse, would he be banished to the Wastes? The idea terrified him.

The Guard stayed on the southbound train for about fifteen minutes, then disembarked with him in tow at the Central Plaza. He had never been to the Central Plaza, but he had heard of it. It was the largest plaza in the entire colony, and smack-dab in the center of it, too. It was almost a mile in diameter, with a tall, arching ceiling and a statue in the middle. Shops lined the walls, advertising everything from clothing to food to pets. And, of course, there was the Temple of the Earth-Mother, taking up a large chunk of the west wall. A stairway of a hundred steps led up to the large, arch-shaped doorway, big enough to several people to walk through side by side. Despite the early hour, the plaza was already full of people going about their daily business, either heading into or out of shops, or just passing through the room on their way to work.

"Stay close," the Guard told him. "It's easy to get lost here." He nodded in reply, and followed on her heels. They cut across the room in a diagonal, dodging women and men alike, until they got to the smallest of the four main pathways that intersected with the plaza. From there, they continued on for a few minutes, before taking several turns.

He hadn't been able to hear the hustle and bustle from the main roads or the Central Plaza for several minutes when the Guard stopped in front of a door. She knocked once, then the door slid open. The Guard beckoned him inside, then left, letting the door slide shut behind her.

This…was not the execution block or the prison he was expecting. It wasn't even an entrance to the Waste. Instead, he was standing at the entrance to what appeared to be a perfectly normal set of rooms, though they were pretty large. The room he was standing in had a couple of couches and an armchair in front of him and to his right, facing a television with a gaming system hooked up to it mounted on the wall directly on his right. Behind the couches was a well-organized desk with a desktop computer on top of it. A tablet rested next to it, plugged into the wall to charge. To his left, against the back wall, was a small, personal kitchen open to the rest of the room, and closer to him was a dining room table with six chairs. A couple of bookshelves were pressed up against the wall directly to his left. There were several door leading to different places – one to the left, one next to the kitchen behind a set of spiral stairs, and a very large one directly in front of him. The room was large enough to be spacious and even a little empty-feeling, despite all the furniture in it.

"Oh! I thought I heard someone knock! Glad you finally made it." Down the stairs came a girl about his own age. Her honey blonde hair was long, reaching just below her waist, and tied back in a ponytail with a white ribbon. She was dressed all in the white robes of a Priestess, embroidered in the black and silver that meant she was being considered for an Archivist position. Her smile was not one that only covered her face, but one that reached her kind blue eyes as well. It was the same girl that had saved him from the Steelix before.

"I'm sorry, I was going to come get you myself yesterday, but something came up and it was very late by the time I returned home," she said as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

She must have noticed the look of bewilderment on his face, because she paused and frowned. "Is something wrong? You can speak. Actually, feel free to speak anytime you want when it's just you and I, but nothing too unnecessary. I usually like my peace and quiet, but I don't mind if you speak either, just not excessively."

It took him a moment to find his voice. "I…I'm sorry," he stuttered. "What am I doing here?"

"Didn't you hear?" When his look of confusion persisted, she sighed. "I can't believe they didn't tell you. I don't know why they _wouldn't_. Someone missed a memo somewhere along the way. I can't imagine what you must have thought, coming here." Then, the smile returned. "Actually, you're here because I requested you for a personal servant."

For a moment, he just stood there in shock. The girl in front of his was still smiling, waiting for his response.

Finally, he managed to sputter out, "B-but why? I-I-I don't have any r-real skills needed to b-be a servant. You c-could have picked someone more experienced." He cursed the stutter in his voice, but he was still in a state of shock.

The girl frowned. "Because I wanted you as my servant, that's why. Do you need any more reason?"

"No! No, of course not. I…I was just wondering. I didn't mean to presume you owed me an answer." At least now his stutter was gone.

The girl sighed, but soon started to smile again. "It's not a bad thing to be curious, you know. It's just not usually a good idea to question your good luck."

He nodded. "Yes, miss."

"Leah will do just fine. Follow me. I don't have much time before I have to go to the temple, but I'll give you a quick overview of your duties before I leave," she told him, before turning and heading through the room toward the doorway on the other side.

She spoke as she walked. "I'm not really too much of a messy person, but I do expect the place to be kept clean. I'll need two meals a day, one in the morning and one at night; I go out for lunch in the middle of the day, though if I'm at home for the day I might need something light to eat. Your ID number has already been modified to include both of our grocery expenses, plus anything else I may need. Just scan your bracelet at the market and you'll be fine. I also expect you to make enough for two people," she said, wrinkling her nose and grabbing onto his boney wrist. "I won't see you hungry; you can't work if you're starving," she sighed, shaking his skinny wrist before dropping it.

"I won't lie, there won't be much for you to do around here, but if I am chosen to become an Archivist, I'll need someone to look after my home and any Pokémon I leave behind while I'm gone. You're free to do pretty much anything you want around here, as long as you keep it clean and attend to your duties, and, of course, run any errands I need you to run." She smiled at him. "I suppose it'll take a while to get used to each other, but we'll figure our each other's preferences and how to stay out of each other's way and all that stuff as time goes on."

"Oh, that's right! I wanted to introduce you to my Pokémon before I left. You'll be helping me take care of them, so you'll have to learn about them as well," she mentioned as they left the hallway they had been walking down and entered another large room. This one had a few toys scattered across the floor – "Don't worry about cleaning up the toys in here, they'll just mess it up again." – as well as some fluffy pillows and Pokémon beds. To one side was a large pool set into the ground – according to Leah, there were windows to see inside downstairs.

However, he was not focused on that at all. Instead, his eyes were glued to the humongous Pokémon that had tried to kill him just one week ago.

Leah seemed to notice his distress. She grabbed his arm, though he wasn't sure if it was meant to calm him or keep him in place. "Meena, come here," she called, and to his terror, the giant Steelix slithered over.

"Don't worry about Meena," she assured him, though he was barely listening. "She looks big and scary, but she's been nothing but amiable since I caught her." Despite his resistance, she was easily able to overpower him – one of the many, many downsides to under eating – to plop his hand on the monstrosity's nose.

Thankfully, the Steelix made no move to attack him. Instead, she just tilted her head, and made a face that almost looked like a smile, thought on her toothy, terrifying face, it didn't help to calm him.

Leah just sighed before returning Meena to her Pokéball. "We'll work on it later," she told him. "To be honest, I'm still learning Meena's quirks myself, so it's a learning experience for us both. For now, let's meet the others."

The next Pokémon was a Dewott, who came rocketing out of the water nearby to land in front of them with a graceful spin. "This is Tidus. He's a bit of a show-off. Don't let him push you around, by the way." She picked up another Pokéball from her waist and returned the blue otter Pokémon.

Next to come bouncing out of a pile of pillows was a little, orange mouse Pokémon. He gave a screech of, "Dee deeeeeee!" and jumped up onto Leah's shoulder, his cheeks sparking as he glared at him. "Hey, hey, Gabe, that's very nice!" Leah cried, reaching to pick him up off her shoulder. Instead, she deposited him on his shoulder, much to his dismay. The Dedenne scampered back and forth across his shoulders several times, his cheeks still sparking, before sitting down decisively on his right should. Leah just sighed. "Gabe's also kind of full of himself. He's a big Pokémon born in a little body. He's pretty nice when he's not pretending to be aggressive, though. Watch out for him and Tidus, though. They'll get into fights occasionally. He's also been picking fights with Meena, too." Again, she picked up a Pokéball and, in a flash of light, recalled her Pokémon.

After that was a Sliggoo sitting by the aquarium. She made a contented sigh when Leah reached down to pet her head. "This is Ophelia. She's really sweet. She'll probably help you keep Gabe and Tidus from fighting." Another Pokéball, another flash of red light.

When the Braixen approached them, he let out a cry. "Oh, I remember you!" He blushed when he realized he had spoken, turning his eyes to the ground again.

However, Leah just laughed. "So you do have vocal chords!" she chuckled. "Yes, Morgan helped fight Meena when you were in trouble. I actually hatched her just after I became a Priestess. She's pretty calm most of the time, but she does have a mischievous side, so be careful." For the fifth time, she pulled a Pokéball from her waist and recalled her Pokémon.

"And last is – " Leah paused, looking around. There were no more Pokémon in the room. "Where did he go?" she murmured to herself, though he could hear her in the emptiness of the room.

Finally, she called, "Rollo! Rollo, where are you? We need to leave!"

For a moment, there was no response but her own voice. Then, a trill echoed out of the other room, and a Mothim floated into the room. It landed lightly on Leah's outstretched arm and crawled up to rest on the back on her shoulder. "This is Rollo," Leah introduced him. "He was my first Pokémon. He was a gift from…someone very dear to me." She did not recall the Mothim, though there was a sixth Pokéball on her belt.

Quickly, Leah took him through the other rooms of her suite – a couple of bedrooms down the hall, a bathroom, a few closets, her own room up the small, spiral staircase (with her own bathroom), and the room down the stairs that allowed them to look into the aquarium.

Finally, she stopped by the door on the left side of the first room. The door slid open, showing a middling-sized bedroom, complete with a bed, a nightstand, and a desk with a lamp on it. On one side was a doorway that led into a small bathroom.

"This is your room and your bathroom," Leah explained. "You're responsible for keeping both it and your restroom clean." She quickly peeked out of the room, then turned back to him. "I have to leave for the temple now," she explained. "I don't have any real instructions for you, other than to make dinner tonight, of course. There's food in the fridge, feel free to make whatever you want. Remember to make some for yourself as well. Oh, and, uh, take a bath or a shower. You need it. There's shampoo and soap in the bathroom, scrub well. There's also a new change of clothes, put them on," she said, picking at his tattered, threadbare clothes. "I took a guess at your size, so we'll see how they fit. We'll take you shopping on my free day."

Leah headed toward the door out, patting her pockets and bag to make sure she had everything. She muttered to herself absently as she did so, as if checking her mental list. He followed quietly after her, still rather overwhelmed by everything.

"Oh!" she cried just before reaching the door, and she whirled back to face him. "I was going to give you a name! I know, I know, a lot of people don't, but saying "hey you" just seems strange, as does shouting out your ID number every time I need you. How does 'Bo' sound?"

He was still too shocked to come up with a very intelligent response. Instead, he tried it out. "Bo…"

Leah frowned. "That's not my best one, I just wanted something easy to remember. I've got a couple more-"

"No!" he cried, suddenly scared she would decide not to name him at all. He realized he had practically shouted when Leah raised an eyebrow. "I mean…No. I…I like the name."

Leah shrugged. "All right, then, if you say so. I'll be back around seven-thirty, and I'd like dinner to be ready by then. See you then." With that, she turned and left. The door slid shut behind her, leaving behind a very confused, yet very happy, newly christened Bo.

He didn't know quite what to make of this situation. Before dawn, he had thought he was going to be executed or banished outside of the colony. Now, just after dawn, he had very suddenly been elevated to the highest position he could reach in society and given a name. He silently repeated it to himself. It still felt strange, unfamiliar, but the more he said it to himself, the more it became his, and the more he became its.

He was still confused, but as his new master had said, he shouldn't question his good luck. All he had to do now was not disappoint Leah, and he had a pretty good idea of how to do that. First, though, he needed to take a shower…

* * *

Leah stretched out her back and yawned. At seven o'clock, her day was finally over. Her days had used to be much shorter – five or six hours, though they had been longer while she had still been in training. Of course, the temple was open at all hours of the day, with the Priestesses in rotation – after all, spiritual guidance could not always wait until morning. However, now that Leah was being considered for an Archivist position, she had to prove herself worthy of the distinction. Not everyone took longer hours – others often found other ways to go about it – but for now, the colony was in a state of peace. No recent attacks from Team Genome (except for the possibility of Meena, but the Archivists had rejected that possibility), the All-Mother was in good health, food was plentiful, and there were no major sicknesses going through the colony. That left little room for Leah to quickly prove herself. She had to take the slow route that everyone else did.

Being a Priestess had always been stressful for Leah, though, and the extra hours and the pressure of being a possible Archivist did not help. Some of the other Priestesses suggested that she talked to a Doctor specializing in therapy, but Leah had tried that before. It seemed that whenever she went into a therapist's office, she came out more stressed and worried than before. Instead, she opted to relax as much as she could at home and go to a spa once every couple of weeks. Judging by the knots that she could feel in her back, it was almost time to make another appointment.

For now, though, it was time to return home. Leah bid the other Priestesses on duty a good night, and headed home. It was time to see how her new servant had fared during his first day at home alone.

When the door to Leah's home slid open, the most delicious scent hit her nose. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the mouthwatering smell emanating from the kitchen. "Wow, it smells _really_ good in here."

Bo gave a yelp when he heard her speak, and she chuckled at him. He ducked his head and blushed, before reaching down to pull something out of the oven. "Dinner is out of the oven," he mumbled.

"I know. I smell it. Can you get food for the Pokémon as well? There should be plenty in the cupboard in the other room." She unhooked her belt of Pokéballs and tossed it to him. He fumbled, then caught it by the tips of his fingers. "Just press the button in the center and throw it. They'll pop right out," she instructed him as she sat down at the table.

Leah had to say, it was an excellent idea to get a slave that had spent time in the kitchens. There was a basket of steaming biscuits sitting in the center of the table. A small array of cheeses and a stick of butter rested on a platter beside it. There was a bowl of steaming pasta, tossed in some sort of white sauce, and peppers stuffed with rice, mushrooms, and carrots on the side. It looked like Bo had just pulled a cake out of the oven, though it still needed to be frosted. There was even a glass filled with a thick, pink smoothie.

Well, all this delicious food wasn't going to eat itself, was it? Leah grabbed a plate from the cupboard in the kitchen and served herself.

She had already begun eating when Bo returned from the other room, gently placing her belt, Pokéballs now empty, on the table. He sat down directly across from her, staring at her with huge, unbelieving eyes, like he still doubted he was there with her and thought the entire room would disappear soon.

Though the food was delicious – some of the most delicious she had ever had, she had to admit – his stare was unnerving. It was hard to eat when she was being glared down.

She glanced up at him, and his eyes averted to the ground once more. "Have you eaten today?" she asked him, and he shook his head. "Didn't I say you have to eat three meals a day?" she sighed, and he flinched. "Go grab a plate and serve yourself. I don't know why you made all this; there's no way the two of us are going to be able to eat it all on our own."

Obediently, her new servant stood and got himself a plate, and placed some food on it. However, he still did not eat, and instead seemed to be having trouble deciding whether to look at his plate or to keep staring at her.

Leah gave an exasperated sigh. "Oh my – Goddess, Bo, _eat_." He flinched at her tone, but he did as she said, and started to eat. Somehow, he was able to keep his eyes glued to her as he shoveled food into his mouth – they could work on table manners later, when he had gained a bit of weight.

Finally, his blatant gawking became too much for Leah. It was annoying and just plain rude. "_What?_"

He flinched at her harsh tone and focused on his hands in his lap. "Sorry," he murmured, "I don't mean to stare."

"Then _why _are you?"

"I just…" he fumbled for words for a moment. "I've never had a master before. Well, I mean, I have, but I've never been someone's personal servant before. I just…it makes me really happy." Finally, a slight smile began to grace his face. "You've been so kind to me. I just want to make you happy too. That's why I made all this. It's…sort of my way of saying thank you. I know there's a lot I don't know right now, but I'm going to work hard, because I want to make you as happy as you've made me today." By the end of it, he was really smiling, though his eyes were still focused downward.

Leah stood from her seat and moved around the table to rest her hand on his shoulder. She waited for him to raise his gray eyes to hers. "You're going to do just fine," she assured him, "and I think we'll get along just fine as well. But do you want to know what would make me really happy?"

"What?" The hope in his eyes was contagious.

"I need you to _stop staring at me so much_." That finally got a giggle out of him, especially when he saw Leah was smiling too. "Seriously, it's kind of unnerving. I'm not going to pop out of existence," she promised.

Bo nodded. "Yes, Leah. Uh, miss. Miss Leah. I'll try."

"Don't go back to the stuttering again," she sighed. "Just Leah will do. Go ahead and do the dishes and put away the extra food. Maybe not make so much unless I'm going to have people over next time?" she suggested. "I'm going to read downstairs for now."

Bo nodded and started to gather up the dishes while Leah headed down the spiral staircase. She allowed herself a smile. Yes, this would work out just fine.

* * *

"Vena, use Petal Blizzard."

"Rollo, counter with Air Slash!"

The Venasaur let out a roar as it shook itself, expelling several petals from the flower on its back. The petals increased in speed, as if being whipped up by a tornado, until they were whirling around the Pokémon at incredible speeds. Then, she charged at her opponent.

Rollo was ready, though. His wings glowed white, and with a powerful slice of them, he managed to cut through the spinning flowers to hit the Venasaur with little damage taken.

"Vena, Sleep Powder." Unfortunately, Leah walked right into her opponent's trap. Now that he was close enough, all her Venasaur had to do was lean forward and spray Rollo with the green powder from her flower. The Mothim fell to the ground, already asleep.

"Vena, Giga Drain. Keep it up." Then, all she had to do was red a massive foot on the much smaller Rollo and drain his energy. Leah could see it trickling out of him and into his opponent in the form of green lights

"Come on Rollo, get up! She's going to beat you!" After several moment, the Mothim managed to wake itself. His eyes flew open in shock, and he struggled to get away from the Venasaur, screeching frantically.

"Don't panic! Stay calm, Rollo! Use Psychic!" At his trainer's call, Rollo's eyes and body began to glow purple. Vena was also surrounded in purple light, and slowly, her body was lifted off of Rollo. She struggled midair for a moment before she was thrown against the room to crash against the wall.

"That's enough," Leah stopped her opponent before she could call out another command. "I think they're both exhausted enough." Sure enough, though Vena was getting to her feet, she had already slipped once, and though Rollo was airborne once more, his wings were shaking, and he looked like he was about to faint. Leah held out her arms to him, and he floated gently down into them. "You did very well," she assured him as she returned him to his Pokéball.

Her opponent was also returning her Pokémon and muttering quiet reassurances. Yue was a pretty young women, with long, straight black hair that nearly reached her hips and honey brown eyes. She stood a few inches taller than Leah herself. Yue was one year Leah's senior, but the two had known each other for several years. Like with Wendy, Yue and Leah had not exactly hit it off – Yue was cold and blunt, and seemed to constantly be criticizing everything she did, which had driven her crazy at first. However, she was reliable and trustworthy no matter the situation, and though her critique was harsh, it had yet to fail to help Leah improve herself, whether it be in battling or bonding with her Pokémon or helping others. As such, Leah considered her a fairly close friend, especially since she had insight as a Priestess that other women could not hope to ever understand.

"You're not practicing enough," Yue told her as they returned to the main room of the temple.

"I'm trying to have a battle every day," Leah shot back, "but I can't always find an opponent. It's not as easy as it looks."

"Why not battle against your own Pokémon?" she suggested.

"If only, if only. I'd be giving both of the Pokémon orders. Not only is that confusing, but I know my own strategy. I'm not going to get any better doing that."

"No, I mean – you have a personal servant, correct?" Yue asked.

"Yes…" Leah replied, unsure of where she was going with this.

"Why not let him borrow a couple of Pokémon and battle against him?"

Leah stopped in her tracks and very slowly turned to face Yue. "What you're suggesting is not only illegal, but _sacrilegious_. It goes against every moral – "

"No. It doesn't," Yue insisted. "It is illegal for a slave to _own_ Pokémon. Nothing is said about using another's Pokémon. Why, I have regular battles against my own servant. He's not very good, of course, but his mind works in a different way from our own. Knowing different fighting styles is imperative if you are going out into the Wastes."

"Maybe, but it's still _wrong_."

"It follows the letter of the law, but not the spirit," she said quickly. "As for the religious part, an Archivist caught me doing it once. She spoke to the others about it – they don't like it, but will admit that every bit of training helps. They look down on it, but it is not strictly forbidden." She stopped speaking as someone entered the temple glancing around and looking like she was in need of assistance. "Just think about it," she encouraged her. "For now, it looks like someone needs your help."

As Yue strode away, Leah was approached by the woman who had entered the temple. Leah filed Yue's troubling statements away for another time and focused on her. She could worry about her friend later; for now, someone needed her help.

"Greetings, Priestess," the woman said. "I was wondering if you could help me."

"I am Priestess Leah. If I am able, I am always happy to help a daughter of the Earth Mother," Leah smiled.

"Priestess Leah, I run a pet store. I regularly make expeditions into the forests aboveground to find new Pokémon to sell to aspiring trainers. However, there are two Pokémon that I caught a couple of months back that no one will adopt. It seems like a crime to just have them live in the pet store for the rest of their lives. I was wondering if someone here would want to take them. I know Priestesses have a special bond with Pokémon. Maybe one of you could find a place in your heart for them."

"Of course," Leah replied. "I'll take them for now and see if I can find anyone interested in adopting them."

The woman smiled, handed her two Pokéballs from her bag, thanked her, and left.

Finally, after a long day at the temple, Leah returned home. Bo was cooking when she returned, but informed her that it would be a while until dinner would be ready. She nodded and headed upstairs to her room. In the few months since he had begun serving her, dinner had always been on the table before she got home. Today, she didn't mind so much, though. Between Yue's strange comments, her battle, and the normal strains of the day, she was exhausted. Maybe she could take a quick nap before dinner.

But first, the Pokémon. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the two Pokéballs she had received from the woman and released the Pokémon inside.

The first Pokémon was a Dunsparce. Unfortunately, it was no surprise he had not been adopted – Pokémon like Dunsparce, Stunfisk, and Magikarp were often the last to be adopted since they were viewed as weak. Still, each Pokémon had its own value, even if it wasn't immediately obvious. She patted his head, and he chirped a greeting. If it hadn't been for his species, his friendly nature would have gotten him very quickly.

The second Pokémon was much stranger – a male Eevee. How odd. Eevees were not only fairly rare, but they were very, very popular for their soft fur, cute face, and gentle, playful natures. Leah herself had tried to adopt an Eevee once, but the pet store had sold out the day before she went to visit. (She had bought Gabe instead; a decision she didn't regret at all.)

It was a mystery for another day, though. Her eyes were drifting shut, and she yawned loudly. "You two can explore if you want," she told them. "I'm going to take a nap." With that, she climbed into bed and promptly fell asleep.

She was awoken by a heavy weight on her chest. She grumbled, and her eyes slowly opened – to come face to face with a pair of blank, soulless once. For a moment, she thought she saw the flames of hell reflected in them.

She lay frozen as her eyes refocused on the Eevee's face. He didn't move, nor did he make any attempt to greet her. He just sat there, staring at her unblinkingly.

She tried to greet it. "U-Um, hello there. How are you doing?" He did not respond, however. His eyes just continued to bore into her soul as she lay there, too terrified to move.

When she finally came downstairs – ten minutes after Bo had called her for dinner – she looked even more exhausted than she had when she had gone to sleep. Bo spared her a worried glance, but was wise enough not to comment.

She shoved the Eevee into his arms and stared at him with haunted eyes. "Keep it out of my room," she whispered to him before plopping down into her chair and mechanically began to eat.

Bo looked at the Eevee that he suddenly found himself carrying. "Now what did you do to scare her so?" he asked him, before carrying him into the other room and returning to join Leah for dinner.

* * *

**A/N:** Here's the next chapter! Thanks for all the lovely support, guys~ 3 I've already mentioned it once in the discussion thread, but if you want to, feel free to ask for my Skype account. I've been getting lots of nice support there too~

Also, so far, we've been seeing chapters that are more or less split equally between two POVs. In the future, we're probably going to be seeing a heavier emphasis on one POV or another during a chapter, or just one POV during a chapter. For now, it's probably going to be focused on Leah, since Bo's sort of delegated to hanging around the house cooking and cleaning while Leah's out doing things. Later, though, it'll end up more evenly split, whether that's within a chapter or switching POVs every chapter, when they both start doing plot important things.

I hope you've all enjoyed the story so far; please leave a review if you enjoyed it, or even if you didn't! I do my best to take critique well.

~Ami


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